


Rollin' Down The Aisle

by desole (tearyxz)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Fluff, Jackson really wants Heelys, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearyxz/pseuds/desole
Summary: Their wedding is in a week, and Mark is about to have a mental breakdown.





	Rollin' Down The Aisle

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [Rollin' Down The Aisle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033614) by [traintospring](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintospring/pseuds/traintospring)



> Happy Holidays! Written for the prompt: markson crack fic where "no, jackson, you can roll down the aisle in your Heelies. yes jackson, the wedding is next week. no, jackson, we're not postponing the wedding so you can find heelies"  
> If you're unfamiliar with Heelys, they're basically shoes that have wheels on the bottom, you can look it up xD

Mark is a laid back, calm, and collected person.

Just in case that wasn’t clear enough, Mark is a _very_ laid back, calm, and collected person. Sure, he gets caught in the throes of passion every so often like any other human being, but all in all he’s much more content to go with the flow.

Perhaps it’s fitting, then, that his fiancé simultaneously manages to be a hyperbolic version of himself as well as his exact antithesis.

“Jackson,” Mark says, his tone of voice exactly that of a parent whose child was teetering on the edge of some catastrophic act, “we have _an hour_ before the store closes. We’ve barely made a dent in our shopping list.”

It should be no surprise that the response he receives mimics exactly that of a petulant child.

“But Mark~ they have _adult Heelys_! Did you know they made these in adult sizes?”

Jackson doesn’t even look at Mark when he asks his question, too enraptured by the pair of shoes currently in his possession. He’s crouched down on the tiled floor, a hand in each shoe, the box tossed haphazardly aside. Experimentally, he swipes the bottoms against the ground, whooping at the satisfying slide.

“They’re so _cool_!” Jackson gushes, and only now does he peer upwards at Mark, all doe-eyed and dopey-grinned.

Mark can immediately anticipate the upcoming question, and hastily attempts to cut Jackson off.

“Yeah, they are! I had a pair when I was a kid! But they’re actually quite tricky, and I think I fell on my face a couple of times. And we still have a bunch of things we need to pick up, Jackson, so we should really-”

“Ohhh ouch! But that’s when you were a kid, right?” Jackson’s selective hearing has conveniently kicked in, and Mark sags, knowing there’s no stopping him now. “Oh my god, Mark! You know what would be awesome? And totally unique? If we _rolled_ down the aisle at our wedding instead of walking!”

“ _Jackson_ ,” Mark says through gritted teeth. This is turning out to be a much more serious situation than he originally anticipated. “Our wedding is in week. A week. Seven days. We cannot suddenly decide to go down the aisle in _Heelys_.”

Jackson pauses, head snapping sharply to look at Mark, his pupils blown.

“Wait, it’s in a _week_? _Seven days?!”_ Jackson nearly screeches, and Mark has the sudden urge to smother his fiancé’s face into a nearby rack of sweaters. He resists, however, and instead peers furtively left and right to see if they’ve managed to attract the attention of a concerned sales associate yet. Getting kicked out of the store for causing a disturbance would be a mortifying end to this already disastrous night.

“Yes, Jackson, our marriage is in a week, so can we _please_ move on and finish our shopping list before the store closes down?” Mark hisses, ready to drop down next to Jackson to forcibly pry the shoes from his hand. As a result, he is nearly headbutted when Jackson suddenly shoots up to standing, eyes sparkling in a way that makes Mark’s stomach turn with both serious apprehension and irrational attraction.

“That’s right,” Jackson breathes out, still looking starstruck. “You’re going to be mine forever in a week, and I’m going to be yours.”

At this, Mark can’t help but flush, shocked by the sudden confession.

“You’re ridiculous,” Mark drops his gaze, embarrassed but pleased, “That’s already true anyways, it’d be true even if we weren’t getting married. It’s just a formality.”

“Of course,” Jackson agrees happily, grinning when Mark finds it in himself to meet his gaze again. “But still, I can’t wait. It’s going to have to be extra special.”

“Yes, yes, it will be,” Mark laughs, reaching out to grasp one of Jackson’s wrists. “And to make sure everything goes smoothly, can we please finish our shopping now? Before the store closes? Besides, I thought we talked about having the most beautiful, cliché wedding with a fairytale-esque happily ever?”

“Right, right, yes. Yes, of course,” Jackson finally seems to snap out of it, leaning forwards to leave a quick peck on Mark’s cheek. Mark releases Jackson’s wrist, satisfied, but realizes he’s relaxed too soon when Jackson’s eyes land on the Heelys he still has in each hand.

This time, however, it’s not fervent pleas or excited hoots. No, Jackson is staring at him with _those_ eyes, the sad, puppy dog eyes with his eyelashes fluttering and his lips pushed into a pout.

It’s an all around disgusting expression to see on a grown man’s face, but Mark is just so, so weak.

“Jackson… those aren’t even in your size….” Mark gives it one last, feeble attempt, but Jackson holds on strong, and Mark can feel his resolve crumbling to the ground.

“Jacksonnnnnn,” Mark groans, hands covering his face as he gives up. “I swear to god, if we can’t find Heelys in your size, we are _not_ delaying the wedding.”

“What if we can’t find Heelys in _your_ size?” Jackson responds cheekily, finally dropping the shoes to pry Mark’s hands off his face, grin so wide Mark’s afraid his face will split.

Mark finally explodes.

“I am NOT getting Heelys! And I am NOT rolling down the aisle in them!”

~~

Fortunately, their wedding does not get postponed.

Unfortunately, they do end up purchasing a pair of Heelys.

Fortunately, they are not in Jackson’s size.

Unfortunately, they fit Mark perfectly.

“I’m going to die, I’m literally going to die. There’s going to be tiny crease in the carpet and then I’m going to slip on it and hit my head and then bleed out on the aisle of my very own wedding.”

Mark is usually a laid back, calm, and collected person. Clearly, all the above traits have deserted him completely on the day of his wedding, moments before he’s supposed to walk, no, _roll_ down the aisle to meet his fiancé, soon-to-be husband.

Except Jackson will never even become his husband if Mark’s brains end up splattered all over floor instead when he trips and falls and _oh god it’s time._

When Mark steps out onto the aisle, there are cheers, there are gasps, there are sniffles and sobs. The church has been decorated beautifully - the tall, vaulted ceilings and the wide, bright windows allow the space to be flooded with light that hits every flower, every face, every figure just right to make everything picture perfect.

But Mark takes none of it in, heart pounding in his chest as he puts one foot in front of the other, dreading the last few feet where he’s promised, and even practiced, to _roll_ towards the pew.

Mark trips.

There isn’t a small bump in the carpet, or even a stray flower petal. Mark has managed to trip on air, or at least some unseen, foreign substance, and Mark is ready for the end.

And yet, he doesn’t crack his head open.

Instead, he falls into strong, warm arms, and when he looks up, is greeted by familiar starstruck eyes that manage to reflect his own awe.

The guests all cheer, some standing, some clapping, but again, Mark doesn’t hear them, unable to resist leaping forwards to capture Jackson’s lips in a premature kiss.

It’s what they both wanted after all - something a little special, ending in the best cliché possible.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated! <3


End file.
